


Split Burden

by loveandwar007



Category: Monster High
Genre: Drama, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandwar007/pseuds/loveandwar007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For months, Frankie hasn't thought of Jackson and Holt as anything more than friends. Until the nightmares started. Nightmares that seem freakishly prophetic. As she tries to piece together the mystery that ties into Jackson's tragic ancestry, Frankie begins to question if leaving Jekyll and Hyde to fend for themselves was really the right decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A loud gasp pierced the stillness as Frankie Stein shot upright in bed, oblivious to the flashes of light outside the basement windows illuminating her bedroom.  Normally lightning storms excited her, made her want to run out in the pattering rain and dance in the puddles despite her father’s warnings that she would short circuit if she wasn’t careful.  Not that the sweat rolling down her face right now was much better, but that wasn’t her fault.  It must have been something she was dreaming about, but for the unlife of her...she couldn’t remember any of it.

Realizing she was gripping the covers so tight she could have torn them in half, she slowly unfurled her fingers and flung them aside, swung her legs over the side of her cold laboratory table bed, the very same table she had been created on, and wiggled her feet into her slippers.  As she stood, the Glitterati rats scurried towards her expectantly to help her with her morning routine as they always did.  She forced a smile down at them.

“Sorry, false alarm,” Frankie said softly as she stooped down to pet them.  “Go back to sleep, it’s only--” She glanced over at the digital clock on her nightstand and sighed weakly “--four in the morning.”  As the rats squeaked back into their cage, she checked the levels on her generator next to the bed.  She still had a few hours of charging left before she was able to unhook and do any strenuous activity.  Like thinking long and hard about what that dream was and what it could have meant.

The fact that she was able to dream in the first place was a miracle unto itself, being a reanimated corpse composed of artificial limbs and “sleeping” being essentially “charging her battery.”  But like naturally born monsters and normies, Frankie could feel basic and complex emotions, have strong feelings and formulate her own strong opinions, and apparently dream within a certain stage of sleep.  The problem was, like when most people dream, she would forget it immediately after she woke up.  All she knew was that it had left her incredibly distressed and short of breath when her eyes had flown open in the darkness.   _That would make it a nightmare, wouldn’t it?_  It wouldn’t have alarmed her too terribly if this were the first night she had woken up shaken--but this was the third night in a row.

_So much for a voltageous summer vacation..._

With the stress of school work and tests behind them for the next three months, Frankie figured she’d be spending it with her best ghoulfriends at the Maul, the movies, or the beach instead of wandering beside them in a haze of unease and lack of sleep.  None of them seemed to have noticed yet, but if these nights kept going at this rate, not even makeup would be able to conceal the tell-tale signs of exhaustion from her friends.  She needed to figure this out before it took over her entire twelve weeks of freedom.  

The cords connected to her neck bolts strained slightly as Frankie walked over to her desk and felt around in the darkness for the large fuzzy book left sitting there overnight.  She had been spending her evenings putting together a scrapbook-slash-photo album of the first two years of her life and was planning to surprise her parents and friends with the finished product.  But in all honesty, the album was mostly for herself.  She had learned and grown so much since the night her father had brought her to life that chronicling it all in a book seemed to be the easiest way to help her keep everything straight.  Plus it just made her feel good to see images of all the people she cared about in one convenient place.  Which was why looking through it needed to be the first step.

Hugging the album to her chest, Frankie leapt back onto her bed and opened the book in her lap.  Flipping through the images, she waited to see if any of them sparked something in her subconscious.  Her parents, smiling and waving at the camera at her very first birthday party?  No, Frankie was almost sure she would have remembered if something terrible had happened to her mother or father in the dream--she loved them more than anything else in the world.  Clawdeen and Howleen halting their bickering for one second to smile for the camera? Nope.  Draculaura’s floating party dress on Clawd’s shoulders as he made goofy faces? Neither of them.  Cleo cuddling in Deuce’s lap as they smiled cheek to cheek?  Nothing.  

Frankie was starting to nod back off to sleep, was starting to think that she was blowing this whole nightmare thing out of proportion, that maybe it was something she ate or something in her battery fluid causing her to have bad dreams when she stopped on the group photo of the boys.  On the surface the post-casketball photo seemed cheerful enough, but the sight of one guy in the back row caused Frankie to spark at the bolts and her generator to sputter and whine from the sudden disturbance.  Taller for a normie, shorter for a monster, dark hair with yellow bangs, square glasses, looking exhausted and sweaty yet triumphant from his team’s victory--Frankie’s good friend, and sort-of ex, Jackson Jekyll.

Her breathing came out sounding more like panting as the echoing voice passed faintly through her mind, triggered just from simply seeing his face: _“Frankie! You need to get out of here...Just go! You’ll get hurt if you stay here! Go! RUN!”_

She slammed the book shut and flung it aside, where it clattered noisily against the hard table.  Clasping her hands over her mouth, she closed her eyes and listened to her own terrified uneven breathing.  What was going _on?_

~

“ _So_ sorry I’m late!” Frankie sailed through the doorway of the Coffin Bean and plunked down in the seat between Clawdeen Wolf and Abbey Bominable. "You have no idea what kind of morning I’ve had.”  First she had slept in far later than she intended to, then she had to get herself ready to go out, _then_ it took her forever to dig through her closet and find the largest purse that would fit her photo album inside so she could show the ghouls--only for her dad to stop her before she reached the door and tell her she couldn’t leave until she did all of her now _afternoon_ chores.  Round it all off with waiting for her mom to get off work so she could get a ride to the Maul and Frankie was _beyond_ late.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much,” Clawdeen assured her, grabbing Draculaura’s hand before she swiped her lipstick too far off the side of her lower lip. “Abbey was just giving us some of the info on Heath’s bonfire tonight.” She glanced over at Frankie, thick eyebrows raised, “You’re still going, right?”

“Of course I’m still going!” Frankie beamed a little too enthusiastically--luckily her friends were used to her over-abundance of optimism. “The first big party of the summer, why _wouldn’t_ I go?!”

“Is ‘fire’ theme--should be good time,” Abbey said, smiling back at her as widely as the yeti girl was able to. “Deuce bringing flaming cheese imported all way from Greece--”

“ _If_ I can ever get ahold of him,” Cleo de Nile complained in her seat from, as usual, the head of the table.  She hadn’t looked up from her phone since Frankie arrived and was texting frantically.

“Clawd and Heath perform fire trick...how you say... _baton?_ ” Abbey guessed.

“Ah, fire batons!” Draculaura nodded, clapping her hands together. “Clawd’s been practicing for two weeks, but he won’t let me see _anything_ until tonight.”  

“And of course, Holt Hyde be DJ.” The bag slipped from Frankie’s grip and hit the floor with a large thud when Abbey mentioned Jackson’s polar opposite alter ego.

“Frankie?” Clawdeen asked, leaning forward to peer at her.

“I’m fine, it’s all good!” Frankie exclaimed cheerfully. “Uh Draculaura, could you get me a Bloody Bean Mocha? Extra espresso! Two shots! Three if you can get ‘em!”  The vegan vampire eyed her suspiciously before getting up to go to the counter.

Ghoulia Yelps looked up from her laptop and groaned in Frankie’s direction, pointing to her eyes.

“Puffy? Oh _pfft_ \--must be this new makeup giving me an allergic reaction!” Frankie whipped out her compact and examined more closely, realizing her bloodshot eyes were in plain view.

“Your hand is shaking,” Abbey noticed, reaching over to gently remove the mirror from Frankie’s quivering hand. “What wrong?”

“Nothing’s wr-wr-wrong...” The yawn escaped before she could even try to suppress it.

“Looks like someone’s not getting enough sleep...or _charge_ in your case," Clawdeen concluded, examining her own reflection in the compact as Draculaura returned with Frankie’s order.

“You can tell us anything, ghoul,” she said sweetly as she set the frothy drink in front of her jittery friend.

“It’s so totally weird,” Frankie finally gave in, glancing around the table through bleary eyes. “You probably won’t understand.”

“Oh right, because after being entombed in a sarcophagus for almost 6,000 years, I would have absolutely _no_ idea what it’s like to have recurring nightmares.”

Frankie whipped her head around so hard she was afraid she’d pop her neck seams as she and the others gazed open-mouthed at Cleo.  She still hadn’t looked up from her phone.

“How did you--?”

“You match all the symptoms perfectly,” Cleo dismissed with a wave of her right angled arm. “Now spill so we can get back to party discussion.”

So Frankie spilled while the others gazed at her in concern, then grinned as she pulled the nearly completed album from her handbag.

“Frankie, you made this?” Clawdeen gaped, clearly impressed by her craftsmanship.

“It’s fangtastic!” Draculaura leaned over Frankie’s shoulder to see the first page. “ _My First Two Years_ \--where has the time gone?”

“I didn’t want to show you until it was done, but I was looking through it late last night after the dream woke me up. Nothing seemed to click until--” She had found the casketball picture of the boys and with a flourish, pointed down at Jackson’s smiling face. “Do you realize what this means?” Her forest green nail began to dig anxiously into the photo.

“Yeah, it means you need more pictures of Jackson in this album,” Clawdeen scoffed. “C’mon ghoul, he was your first big crush!”

“Let’s not forget Deuce,” Cleo added coldly, raising her finger pointedly.

“ _That_ was a mistake,” Frankie emphasized, glancing directly into Cleo’s eyes to show she meant it. “But the point is that I’m having these dreams where something awful happens to Jackson--and probably Holt too! But _why?!_ ”

“Perhaps subconscious thoughts trying to tell you something,” Abbey said wisely. “You still like Jackson and Holt, yes?”

“Well...yeah,” Frankie sighed defeatedly--there was no point hiding it now. She was way too tired and vulnerable to mask her feelings with a thousand denials and excuses. “If that were the case, wouldn’t I be having dreams about us holding hands and kissing or something?"

“Dark premonitions lead to dark thoughts,” Abbey said grimly, “Dark thoughts lead to worry. Worry leads to nightmares.”

“But I’m not worried about anyth--!”

“Oh my Ra!” Cleo shouted, making everyone jump a foot in the air.

“What?!” Clawdeen exclaimed.

“Deuce is back from the airport,” Cleo said matter-of-factly, hugging the phone to her chest, “With the cheese for the party.”  Clawdeen let out a low growl but didn’t say a word.

“Maybe you should talk to Holt at the party tonight,” Draculaura suggested, “Tell him how you feel.”

“ _No_ ,” Frankie said firmly, slamming the cover of the album closed and sending wisps of glued-on fur flying. “I put my foot down until he and Jackson learn to work with each other. If I let up, I’ll just look desperate.”

“Then talk to him about the nightmares,” Clawdeen said, still half glaring in Cleo’s direction for not taking Frankie’s situation seriously. “Ask him if there’s anything _he_ needs to talk about, friend to friend.”

“This plan I like,” Abbey nodded in agreement--and Frankie had to admit she liked the sound of it, too.

“Okay, I’ll talk to him tonight.” Maybe then she could put this entire ordeal to rest, and smiled inwardly at the mere thought of a full night’s sleep this evening.

~

Frankie nervously twirled a strand of black and white hair between her fingers faster than Clawd was spinning those fire batons.  She pretended to be at least mildly interested in the show he and Heath were putting on, though it wasn’t that it didn’t impress her.  Clawd tossing fireballs high into the air so Heath could catch them in his mouth was definitely a mastered feat, and no one was cheering louder than Draculaura--though Frankie was starting to think her cheers were becoming more and more like exclamations of relief that Clawd didn’t hurt himself.  

No, what kept distracting Frankie was that any moment now, Holt Hyde would show up out of nowhere to DJ the dance, which would keep him busy all night.  Finding a moment of breathing space to have a serious discussion with him was hurdle number one.  Getting him to stop flirting with her, hurdle number two.  And then...Frankie fisted the clump of hair, biting her lip.  What if Holt didn’t want to talk to her about whatever it was he was hiding? What if it was so awful that he wouldn’t confide in anyone? Not even _her?_

“And now guys and ghouls, it’s time to get this dance party started!” Heath shouted to the crowd, who cheered and began chanting Holt’s name.  In a flash of bright green light the blue-skinned, flaming haired, rocker wailing party DJ had arrived.

“Are you _readayyyyyyy?!_ ” Holt sang out to the crowd, who sang “ _Yeah!_ ” back in response.  Pumping up the volume on the soundboard, a techno beat blasted from the speakers as Holt’s fingers flew across the spinning records, scratching in time to the music.

Frankie unhooked her finger from her hair and tossed the silky sheet of black and white over her bare mint green shoulder.  Looking around, she caught Draculaura and Clawdeen’s gazes, who both cocked their heads in the direction of the DJ booth as if to say “ _Go now._ ”  Holding her breath as if she were about to plunge into icy water, Frankie began to push her way to the front of the bouncing, bumping and grinding crowd of dancers.  Out the corner of her eye, she saw Cleo swaying along to the beat in Deuce’s arms--and could have sworn she saw the Egyptian princess glance warily in her direction.  But Frankie didn’t have time to stop, she was nearly there.  She had just tripped through the front of the crowd and nearly landed face first in the grass when the first song ended, and she broke into applause with the rest of the crowd.

“Alright kids, we’re gonna slow things down a bit,” Holt announced, and Frankie heaved a sigh of relief. “Hope ya like this new mix I came up with for tonight. Grab that ghoul or guy you care about most and show ‘em you mean it.”  A ballad flowed through the speakers as Frankie climbed the wooden stairs to the stage, her heels clattering as she walked briskly up to the profile of the totally voltageous monster behind the soundboard.

“Holt!” she called as loud as she could over the pulsing music, feeling the vibrations under her feet even during a slower ballad.  Holt turned to the source of the voice that called him, and his eyes lit up faster than a Fourth of July sparkler.

“Frankie Fine!” he sang out happily.  The first couple rows of the crowd looked up at them and smiled knowingly, some chuckled, and if Frankie had a circulatory system she would have blushed.  Thanks to Spectra Vondergeist, the entirety of Monster High knew about their history together.  “Look at you lightin’ up my stage!”

“Listen, can I talk to you for a second?!” Frankie called again, then leaned closer to his ear. “It’s kind of important!”

Holt blinked for a second as if unsure if he heard her correctly, then broke into a slow sly smile. “Why of _course_ you may, my electrifyin’ ghoul.”  He turned to Heath who had come up onstage to assist him, “Hey rookie! Take over for a second, would ya?!”

“Will do!” Heath called, winking in their direction and Frankie grinned: Hurdle one cleared.  Holt took Frankie by the arm and pulled her down the stairs and underneath the stage.  The moonlight trickling in through the cracks in the wooden beams cast slivers of light on Frankie's face.  Holt kept her hand firmly in his and twirled her under his arm.

“You’re really puttin’ the ‘fine’ in Fine Stein tonight!” he said, admiring the light blue strapless dress and silver heels she’d picked out for the party.

“Thanks,” Frankie smiled--he sure knew how to make a ghoul feel special.  But now wasn’t the time to be making small talk. “Holt, about that thing I need to ask you--”

“The answer is yes!” Holt declared, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it.

Frankie sparked. “W-what?”

“Yes, I’ll go out with you again!” Holt shouted to the sky through the wood boards as he picked up Frankie’s lithe frame and spun her around in his arms. “I knew you couldn’t stay away--they _never_ can.”

“Holt, put me down!” Frankie yelled exasperatedly, “I’m not asking you out!”

“Oh.” Holt promptly dropped Frankie ungracefully back down on the ground, where she stumbled to stay on her feet.  “It’s okay--I’m a big boy, I can take a little rejection.”  He glanced back at her with puppy-dog shaped red eyes, “It just hurts _so bad_ comin’ from you, baby.”

“Holt, listen to me,” Frankie said through gritted teeth, stomping her heel into the grass as she clumsily forced her way past hurdle two.  It was nearly impossible to hold her ground when he looked at her like that.  “Is there anything you want to talk about? Nothing romantic, nothing about you and I or anything we had or anything we may or may not have in the future, just _you._ Is...there anything that’s bothering you?” Her voice had gotten quieter, almost timid as she gazed up at him nervously.

Holt paused for a second, looking down into her two-toned eyes softly, and for one crazy moment Frankie thought he was going to grab her and kiss her.  Then he threw his head back proudly and said, “Nope! Nothing wrong with me!”

Frankie tried a gentler approach, “It’s okay, you can tell me anything. If you want me to keep it secret I will--”

“Frankie, I’m fine!” Holt insisted, spreading his arms wide. “There’s nothin’ botherin’ me!”

“ _Nothing?_ ” Frankie sighed. “Nothing with you or Jackson?”

“Normie boy? Pfft, he’s just mad he didn’t get invited. He’ll get over it by tomorrow.”

“Well if...if you’re sure...” So she’d been right, and Abbey and the others were wrong.  She was blowing this whole thing out of proportion.  She could have ripped her leg off and kicked herself for acting so stupid.

“I’m sure.” He pulled her a little closer and breathed into her ear, his warm breath causing her to spark again, “But thank you for your concern.”  As they heard the crowd break into applause and a reggae beat pulse through the night, Holt raced back up the stairs with Frankie at his heels, him returning to the soundboard and her disappearing back into the crowd.  

~

“So it was a complete waste, huh?” Clawdeen asked later that night, tossing her empty candy wrapper into the bonfire.  She, Frankie, and Draculaura could hear the music winding down, could see Abbey and Heath slow dancing close to each other--and Abbey actually looking like she was enjoying it.  Though the night was chilly, the fire was nice and hot.  Even Draculaura had shed her wrap and inched closer to its warmth.

“Besides the usual Holt Hyde flirting fest, yeah. Complete waste," Frankie grumbled as the music faded and people began to empty the dance floor and head home. Then her face brightened, "But hey! Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe now that this has been cleared up I can finally sleep well tonight.”

“I hope so, you’re sleeping at my place,” Draculaura turned away from the fire to look at her. “My house can look pretty scary in the dark, it’s no fun waking up before the sun rises.”

“Unless you’re--you know, _you,_ ” Clawdeen snickered and the three ghouls shared a laugh just before a loud wail pierced the still night: “ _And what in flaming heck is that supposed to mean?!_ ”

The ghouls stood suddenly and glanced in the direction of the yell.  “Heath?” Clawdeen asked, thinking someone had tried to hit on Abbey.

“No... _Holt,_ ” Frankie whispered, staring straight ahead.  The DJ was staring down a gargoyle guest of Rochelle’s, fists balled at his sides and teeth gritted, his eyes so fierce and angry they might’ve burst into flame.  

“Calm down, kid,” the gargoyle said smoothly. “All I said was if she wasn’t doing anything later tonight, we could--”

“She is _not_ that kinda ghoul!” Holt sneered, grabbing the oaf by the shoulders and pushing him roughly against the wood steps. “And if you ever talk about her like that again, let alone go _near_ her, I’ll--!”

Frankie took a step forward, but Clawdeen and Draculaura each put a hand on her shoulders and shook their heads.  All three of them could agree on one thing though: Frankie had to be the “her” in question.

“She’s not yours, kid--I think we all saw that tonight,” the oaf twice his size chuckled, shoving Holt backwards onto the ground.  Frankie winced, covering her mouth with her hand.  She knew Holt’s tendency to lose his temper easily, but she had _never_ seen him like this before.  “So, why don’t you just let _me_ show her a good time?”

Those who had stopped to watch the action roared to life as Holt launched himself up from the grass and tackled the gargoyle to the ground.  Kneeling on his chest, the enraged DJ began throwing punches at the ogre’s head, one after the other, his black tattoo glistening with sweat.

“Holt, stop it!” Frankie tried to scream over the crowd. “Get off of him! Just _stop!_ ”  She rushed forward, but Abbey appeared in front of her and steered her away from the fight.

“Heath take care of it,” Abbey said calmly, dragging the struggling Frankie towards the parked cars as Draculaura fished in her purse for her keys. “We go.”

“No--no Holt--he--he could get hurt!” Frankie cried, trying to pry herself from the yeti’s powerful grip.

“When like this?” Abbey spun her around to face Holt again.  Still blazingly livid, still on top of the gargoyle who had mentioned doing who knew what to Frankie had he gotten her alone, still throwing blows at him relentlessly. “Is gargoyle boy who will get hurt.”

Her grip softened to a comforting embrace around Frankie’s shoulders as the innocent ghoul kept her eyes fixed on the scene that horrified her to her very core.  She wanted to scream, throw herself into the fray, cry, or all of the above.  But she couldn’t do anything.  So she just stared.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_“Holt, what are you doing?!” Frankie screamed.  The blue-skinned DJ had her roughly by the wrists and only squeezed harder the louder she protested.  Wrenching her arms apart, he spread them wide and Frankie gasped as she was flung against the stone wall, Holt pressed up against her.  But this wasn’t romantic by any means.  Frankie wouldn’t have been fearing for her unlife if it were._

_“No one says ‘no’ to Holt Hyde, baby!” Holt hissed into her face, his eyes blazing even brighter than Frankie had seen them at the party.  She screamed as Holt’s nails dug into her skin, trying to turn her head away from his threatening gaze.  “Say it again and I’ll make sure you regret it.”_

_In a final desperate attempt, Frankie shot a shower of electricity in his face from her fingers--which made him wince and loosen his grip, but only made him angrier.  “I’m sorry, Holt!” she shouted, and she meant it._

_“Oh yeah, you’re definitely gonna be sorry you did that.” Conjuring a ball of fire in his fist, Holt raised it high in the air and plunged it straight into her face..._

Frankie jolted awake, and this time she didn’t even need to open her eyes to get the idea.  It had happened again.  After she thought it was all over, the nightmares were back.  Except...was it her or were they getting more and _more_ vivid?

Cracking her eyes open, she was alarmed for a moment at the dark dimly candlelit room and laced gossamer curtains covering the high windows until she remembered she had spent the night at Draculaura’s.  Audible snoring could be heard to her right where Abbey lay in her snow white cot.  Clawdeen’s outline could be made out where she was curled up against the window beneath the nearly full moon.  And Frankie herself lay near the opposite wall (and the bedroom’s only outlet) where her travel generator was plugged in.  Something felt funny on Frankie’s right arm, and when she looked down she saw why.  The intensity of this latest dream had caused her to completely tear the seams connecting her right hand to her wrist in her sleep.  Rolling her eyes, she felt around for her bag to dig out her sewing kit.

“Frankie...?” She froze and whipped her head around, the voice coming from the ceiling.  Draculaura, hanging upside down from the top of her canopy bed, pushed her sleep mask away from her eyes and glanced down at her worriedly. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“It’s okay, go back to sleep,” Frankie whispered, jumping slightly as Abbey let out a grunt and rolled onto her other side.  

“Okay...but let me know if you need me,” Draculaura nodded before covering her eyes with the sleep mask again.  All of the ghouls had been on edge since the party the night before, and because of the incident, they were all watching Frankie like three extra parents.  

After Draculaura started the car and sped away from the bonfire, it had taken them the entire ride to calm Frankie down from watching Holt’s display of aggression.  Once they’d reached the mansion, Draculaura called Clawd and Abbey called Heath to find out what had happened after they left and if they were they alright, while the boys in turn asked how Frankie was doing.  Abbey announced that Holt’s gargoyle victim had to be taken to the hospital, while Holt had disappeared shortly after Heath, Deuce and Clawd broke the fight up.  That only set Frankie off again, claiming the entire ordeal was her fault--if she hadn’t talked to Holt privately, none of the rumors about them would have started swirling and the fight wouldn’t have happened.  After consoling Frankie, while the emotional roller coaster nearly drained her battery’s charge, the ghouls turned in for the night.  It was done now, there was nothing they could do to change it, and trying to place blame on someone wouldn’t make it any better.

_So why do I still blame myself?_

Grabbing her sewing kit and iCoffin phone, Frankie unhooked herself and headed into the adjacent bathroom to sew her hand back on.  Flicking the light on, she clicked her phone to life.  36 missed text messages.  She bit her lip as she checked the senders’ list: 30 from Holt, five from her parents and one from Cleo.  Most of Holt’s messages asked if she was okay, told her he was sorry he made a scene and to not worry about him tonight.  Holding the phone against her heart, Frankie hoped with everything inside her that Holt was safe at home and not spending the night in some jail cell.

Once she had finished stitching and had two hands again, it was almost 6am.  Frankie promptly began answering her parents’ frantic texts, telling them she was fine and would be back later that morning.  That left the lone message from Cleo, which Frankie thought was odd.  The mummy had opted to spend the night at Deuce’s place, not to mention had shown barely any concern from Frankie’s predicament.  But here it was, the most vague text of them all:

MEET ME @ THE COFFIN BEAN @ 12 NOON. COME ALONE.

~

After arriving back home a few hours later, Frankie was greeted at the front door with a crushing hug from her mother and several minutes of recounting the story of what happened at Heath’s bonfire.  Once Frankie had assured her that she wasn’t _in_ the fight, she was just the subject of it, Mrs. Stein suggested a manicure and pedicure at the Maul to help ease her daughter’s anxiety.  Frankie forced a smile and agreed that was a great idea--plus she would be able to meet up with Cleo at the Coffin Bean as well.

While the maintenance to her nails was nice, she wished the cold dread in her heart would wash away as easily as the dirt under her calluses.  Why had she dreamt about Holt taking out his anger on _her?_  It was just a dream, so why did it scare her so badly?  How did this tie into the dreams she’d had about Jackson?  She had no idea what Cleo wanted to talk to her about, but she was hoping she’d be able to squeeze in some questions about what her dreams could be telling her about Jackson and Holt--and what it had to do with her.

So at five to noon, Frankie parted ways with her mother in front of Freaky Over 40 and headed around the corner to the Coffin Bean.  She saw Deuce heading out as she was walking in and he jabbed his thumb inside, indicating where Cleo was waiting for her.  Frankie was violently reminded of her fearleading interview with Cleo during her first week of school, the one that had almost completely botched her reputation, as she walked toward the table where Cleo sat waiting for her, hands folded and lips pursed.  But this wasn’t an interview, and there wasn’t any pressure.  It was just a chat between friends.  Right?

“You disappeared last night before I could talk to you,” Cleo began as Frankie sat down across from her, folding her own hands in her lap.

“Sorry,” Frankie said sheepishly, “I was really rattled after...well, you know what happened.”

“I can imagine,” Cleo nodded understandingly and Frankie relaxed.  Earning Cleo’s friendship had been quite a trial period during the past two years, and sometimes Frankie wasn’t quite sure if she’d succeeded.  But seeing concern within the royal’s cold dark eyes made her feel warm inside knowing that Cleo had her back as well.  “If it makes you feel any better, Deuce texted Jackson this morning. He woke up in his own bed and seems fine.”

“Oh thank _ghoul_ ,” Frankie breathed out in relief, pressing her hands to her chest--that was at least _one_ weight lifted off of it.  

“Also you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened,” Cleo went on as if reading Frankie’s mind like a book the longer she surveyed her face. “Holt has a temper problem, we all know that.”

“But I’ve _never_ seen it escalate this badly before,” Frankie explained, the dread returning to the pit of her stomach. “And then last night, I...I dreamt that...he...took it out on me.”  She closed her eyes, still hearing his threats, his screams echoing in her ears.

“I understand, you don’t have to go on,” Cleo said gently, taking pity on her.  

Frankie opened her eyes slowly, then blinked the dampness away, “Thanks.”

“So now you’re wondering how this ties in with the dreams you were having about Jackson.”

Frankie’s head shot up, “You were actually _listening_ yesterday?”

“Of _course_ I was _listening!_ ” Cleo responded bitterly, slamming her fists down on the table. “Just because I’m spoiled doesn’t mean I can’t multitask! I heard every word.” She folded her tightly bandaged arms across her chest and looked away, “But if you don’t want my help, that’s just fine with m--”

“No no, I do!” Frankie cut in, sounding more desperate than she wanted to. “I need to start trying to figure this out, and I need all the help I can get. _Please_ , Cleo.”

“Well, since you said ‘please.’” Cleo reached down for her scarab beetle engraved purse and clicked it open. “I had Ghoulia decode the locks on my father’s study and his walk-in safe. He’s quite the historian in case you hadn’t guessed, and likes to read up on all the monster families in New Salem. Some of these accounts are”--she cleared her throat--“ _restricted_ from us children. But his ‘protection’ is nothing the smartest zombie in school can’t get past.” Withdrawing what she was looking for, she made a show of throwing it down on the table in front of Frankie.

_The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ by Robert Louis Stevenson.

“Um Cleo?” Frankie said slowly, picking up the novella in her newly manicured hands. “Isn’t this--?”

“A normie’s account of a monster’s plight?” Cleo finished for her. “Yes it is, so take it with a grain of salt. Our parents don’t take too kindly to us even knowing about these, let alone reading them.”

Frankie nodded in understanding.  A certain Mary Shelley novel wasn’t allowed within the walls of her own home, and _certainly_ never mentioned in front of her father unless she wanted to see him really angry.

“But,” Cleo went on, “it will give you a general idea of where Jackson and Holt’s condition came from, and give you an idea of what your dreams mean.”

“Thanks Cleo,” Frankie said sincerely. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Oh, but I did,” Cleo sighed, her glossed lips widening into a smile. “Trust me, this is for the good of all three of you.”

“All--all three of--what?” Frankie spluttered, completely lost.

“Take advantage of what you have, Frankie,” Cleo stood, pulling out her phone and skimming through a text. “Do the research, draw your own solution, _grab_ at it.” Cleo marched towards the doorway, but not before turning around and leaning over Frankie’s shoulder, whispering in her ear: “And for all our sakes, _don’t_ let it go.”  Then without a word, she threw her handbag over her shoulder and linked arms with Deuce, strolling back through the doorway and into the waves of shoppers.

Frankie shook her head to clear Cleo’s strangely cryptic advice from her thoughts and focused on the book in her hand.  This was step two, and after what happened with Holt at the bonfire she was going to have to pick up the pace in piecing this together.  Straightening up, she headed out to meet her mom in front of the Maul’s center fountain wearing her first genuine smile in two days.  That is until she rounded the corner and her breath caught in her throat at the sight of who stood less than fifty feet from her.  

“ _Jackson?_ ”  The young man with square glasses and wearing a sweater vest and bowtie spun around.

“Frankie, hey,” Jackson greeted her with a half smile, trudging up to her like a little kid who ate the last cookie out of the jar. “Um, well...Holt asked me to give you these.” He held up the bouquet of lilacs he’d been holding limply at his side.

“Oh!” Frankie gasped in surprise, taking the flowers from him, “They’re beautiful.”  On a plastic stand in the center stood a card and she dug it out to read it:

_Sorry about last night.  Hope these might make it better.  Forgive me?  --HH_

“I’m not mad at him, I was _worried_ about him,” Frankie said miserably, flashes of the previous evening appearing in front of her eyes.  She brought the flowers to her nose and inhaled--they smelled like her perfume from last night.

“Don’t be,” Jackson grumbled. “He’s always getting into spats like that. Some worse than others.”  He reached up to rub the right side of his neck and Frankie’s jaw nearly hit the floor.  The lilacs actually did.

“Jackson, your _hand!_ ” It was wrapped tightly in an ace bandage, and Jackson looked at it and sighed.

“Like I said, some are worse,” he repeated as Frankie stepped closer and gently took his wounded hand in both of hers. “What do you expect when you get in a fight with a stone gargoyle? But did it have to be my _sketching_ hand?”  

“Jackson, I--I’m so sorry, I just--” The guilt was almost too much for Frankie to bear, but thankfully a distraction saved her from collapsing into a blubbering mess.

“Frankie, honey! Is that Jackson?!”

“Hi, Mrs. Stein!” Jackson waved back with his good hand as Frankie’s mother walked briskly up to them with two bags from Freaky Over 40 in each hand.

“Oh Jackson, aren’t you thoughtful,” Mrs. Stein smiled at the bouquet Frankie had swept up from the floor.  She winked knowingly at her daughter, who gave her a Look in return.  Truth be told, the only person more upset than Jackson and Holt when Frankie broke it off with them was her mother.

“Actually, they’re from Holt,” Jackson explained.

“As an apology for last night,” Frankie added.

“Oh right, Frankie told me about that,” Mrs. Stein’s smile slipped a little as she caught sight of Jackson’s bandaged hand. “Want me to have Viktor look at that for you?”

“Nah, I’ll be okay,” Jackson shrugged, “Not the first time this has happened you know.”

“Just the first time _I’ve_ been mixed up in it,” Frankie said before she could stop herself.

“But isn’t it sort of nice to have a boy willing to defend your honor?” Mrs. Stein asked with that same twinkle in her eye, laying a hand on Frankie’s shoulder.  Frankie knew her mom was trying to make her feel better, but in all honesty it wasn’t working.  The fact that Jackson had gotten hurt so badly it put his summer of drawing landscapes out of commission only made her want to sprint home immediately and dive into the forbidden novella tucked into her handbag.

“Shouldn’t we get home and start thinking about dinner?” Frankie said quickly, looking her mom straight in the eyes--luckily she got the hint.

“Ah you’re right,” Mrs. Stein caught on, “I’ll go bring the car around.”  She turned to Jackson and beamed at him, “Tell your mom I’ll see her tomorrow afternoon--and tell her not to forget that cheese biscuit recipe this time.”

“Sure thing,” Jackson nodded, smiling back at her, “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Stein.”

“I better help her with those bags,” Frankie said as her mother walked on ahead, bending down to grab the two bags she left behind.  As she did, something hit the marble tile with a _thwack_.

“What’s that?” Jackson asked from behind her.  Frankie looked down and her eyes widened: The book Cleo had given her was lying out in plain sight.  Quicker than lightning, she snatched it up before Jackson could get a good look at it.

“Summer reading project,” Frankie covered up, stuffing the book back into her purse.  Hitching up the bags, she bid goodbye to Jackson and followed her mom out the sliding doors.  But like the weird spiritual connection she seemed to have with him in her dreams, she could practically feel Jackson’s eyes on her even long after they pulled out of the lot.

~

For the rest of the day and into the evening, Frankie felt like the entire universe was hell bent on making sure she never got a moment alone to read the novella.  As soon as she and her mom hit the door from the Maul, Frankie had to _yet again_ recount the bonfire story to her dad who had just gotten home from teaching at the community college.  He narrowed his already squinted eyes and claimed he “never liked that Holt boy”--which Frankie always found ironic since _Jackson_ was pretty much the only boy he approved of.  She was saved from voicing this retort aloud by her mother, who responded snappily to her husband with “He’s Sydney’s son too, Viktor!”  Frankie smiled at her mom in thanks as her father cleared his throat, then said simply, “I’m glad you remained safe, Frankie.”

After dinner, Frankie tried her hardest to excuse herself to go to her room, but unfortunately she didn’t even have the excuse of homework now to save her.  Her father had pulled out a movie and made popcorn, so she had no choice but to sit down with them and watch.  While she resented it at first, she later had to admit it felt good to lose herself in the suspenseful thriller her dad had picked out and forget about her own problems for a couple of hours.  Sitting sandwiched between her parents, feet curled up underneath her as she rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, Frankie felt safe for the first time since the nightmares started.  It was only when the movie ended and the credits began rolling that everything came crashing back down on her--the dreams, Jackson, Holt, the fight, the book--and she snuggled closer to her mom.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Stein asked, drawing her close as her father looked over in concern.  Frankie swallowed the hard lump in her throat, and for that split second considered telling them everything.  Even about the book hidden in her purse, even though having such a thing in her possession might make them so angry that they took her apart for the rest of the summer.  But no, she didn’t want to involve them and make them worry--she had made this decision after Nightmare #1 and was sticking to it.  Frankie was going to figure this out on her own.

“Nothing,” she replied, beaming up into her mother’s eyes. “I just like when we all get to spend time together, you know?”

Her mother chuckled and kissed the top of her head, “Well now that you’re finished with the school year and Dad and I are down to just teaching summer classes, we can do this more often.”

“Voltage,” Frankie murmured in her mom’s embrace, then leaned over to hug her dad too. “I’m think I’m gonna turn in for the night...”

“Goodnight, my sweet girl,” her dad’s voice rumbled gently.   _Finally!_ Frankie cheered inwardly, trying her hardest to refrain from sparking.  She kissed her dad on the cheek and leapt up from the couch, grabbed her things from the kitchen counter and descended the steps to her bedroom.

Setting _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ on her bed, Frankie first dug out a flower vase from underneath her desk and filled it with water in her bathroom.  She took a minute to arrange the lilacs Holt gave her, then set them on the desk where she could always see them.  It gave the mustiness of her basement room a bit of a fresh scent, and was grateful to Holt for that.  And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, just the fact that he had given her flowers made the electrical current flowing through her vibrate faster, and quickly moved her hands away so she wouldn’t fry the entire vase.

Getting comfortable in bed, Frankie cracked open the aged cover and began her trek through this particular account of Dr. Henry Jekyll--Jackson’s great-grandfather, and the one who had created this alternate persona in the first place.  As she read the outsider’s account of Jekyll’s mission to separate the good and evil that resides in humans, Frankie found herself both grateful for and hating the doctor.  Grateful that Jackson and Holt were able to attend Monster High because of his experiment, and resentful due to all of the problems it caused them.  Jackson never being able to listen to music or attend parties without earmuffs, Holt never appreciating the silence of the night, his fiery hot temper that got him in worse and worse trouble, Jackson taking the brunt of any physical abuse even though he had nothing to do with it, and possibly the worst one of all...losing Frankie’s affections because they just couldn’t get along due to all of these other problems, and thus driving her away.  

Frankie sighed and set the book down on her chest, staring up at the ceiling.  It hadn’t been a decision she’d made lightly, but really what choice had she had in the end?  How could she date two guys who couldn’t even accept each other for who they were and reach some sort of agreement--while the one and only thing they _could_ agree on was that they were both crazy about _her?_  And what did liking two sides to the same guy, both so different from each other, say about her as a ghoul?  Why was she getting all worked up over these dredged up memories caused by a book she was supposed to be treating like a Wickedpedia article?!  Groaning in frustration, she blocked the rest of this train of thought from her mind, picked up the book and resumed reading.

By the time her digital clock read 4:15am, Frankie had read the book from cover to cover.  She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing her hands to stop shaking as her now black nails clattered against the book’s cover.  She knew.  Everyone in the monster community knew what had happened to Dr. Henry Jekyll all those years ago, how he had killed himself before the persona of Edward Hyde could permanently take over his body.  But to actually read about it happening was a completely different experience, and what was worse was that his attempt to destroy the alternate persona within him by killing himself had ultimately failed.  Dr. Jekyll had left his mark on his descendants, not saved them from it.  According to Frankie’s mother, this was proven when his granddaughter was brought into the world bearing the dreaded curse: Sydney Jekyll, Jackson’s (and Holt’s) mother.

Frankie slipped the book back into her purse and clasped it shut before pulling the covers up to her nose and closing her eyes, willing her mind out of its frenzy.  Step two was completed--she now had a general idea of the spilt persona’s origins.  Now it was on to step three, which involved figuring out how this reflected Jackson and Holt’s particular inheritance of the curse.

And this time, Frankie knew _exactly_ who she needed to talk to next.

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Ghoulia, you know what you need to do?”  The zombie groaned back confidently at Cleo, who turned to Frankie seated next to her in the backseat of Draculaura’s car. “She’s got it covered.”

It was the following afternoon and Mrs. Stein was spending the day visiting with Jackson’s mother at home while Frankie had supposedly left to meet the ghouls at the Maul.  Which she had--to put their heads together and figure out a way to get Frankie’s mother out of the house so Frankie could get the information she needed from Mrs. Jekyll.  Now the ghouls sat in the car in front of Frankie’s house finalizing their plan conceived in a secluded corner of the Die-ner.

“So Ghoulia will hack into Mr. Stein’s phone and text Frankie’s mom, saying there’s been an emergency out at the community college,” Cleo explained. “Hopefully we’ve come up with a big enough emergency that she’ll feel she needs to go out there and help.”

“How long will that give Frankie with Mrs. J then?” Draculaura asked, nibbling on her bottom lip nervously with her left fang.

Cleo watched Ghoulia’s laptop screen as the zombie frantically typed away. “Given the time it will take for Frankie’s mother to drive out there, realize it’s a mistake and drive back home...” She looked up at Frankie again, “I can guarantee you one hour, give or take a few minutes.”

“That should be enough,” Frankie nodded, pleased at how simple yet effective this plan sounded.  Still, deceiving her parents had not originally been part of getting step three off the ground.  But then again, how else was she going to keep from worrying them about her freaky vision dreams while looking for an excuse to have a private conversation with her mom’s best friend?  

“Having second thoughts?”  Was Cleo part mind-reader or something?

“I just feel a little uneasy about this,” Frankie admitted.

“Aw Frankie.” Clawdeen turned herself around in the front passenger seat and glanced at her almost pityingly, “ _Don’t_ tell me this is the first time you’ve ever lied to your parents.”

“No, of course not!” Frankie said indignantly--what kind of goody two-shoes did Clawdeen think she was? “I’ve been telling them everything’s perfectly fine ever since these stupid nightmares started!” She shared a quick knowing glance with Cleo out the corner of her eye--neither of them had told the other ghouls about the book Cleo had stolen from her father’s study.

“Alright alright, _sorry,_ ” Clawdeen held up her sharp nailed hands in defense.  It was very rare the ghouls saw Frankie this irritated, and Frankie instantly regretted it whenever she found herself dismissing or snapping at one of them.  The sooner the plan went into action, the sooner Frankie would have the answers she needed.

“Okay, I’m going in,” Frankie exhaled, undoing her seatbelt and getting out of the backseat of the car, hitching her purse over her shoulder.

“You got this, ghoul!” Draculaura grinned, fangs bared and giving her a thumbs-up while Ghoulia moaned back in agreement.  The car pulled away as soon as Frankie was halfway up the driveway--and now, without her ghoulfriends physically behind her, she was more nervous than ever.  Even once the plan succeeded, how in the world was she going to get the information she needed from Mrs. J without hitting a nerve, a sensitive topic? What if she just plain wouldn’t tell Frankie because she was a child who didn’t need to know these things?  Narrowing her eyes, she straightened up as she reached the front door, digging out her house key with unnecessary force.  She _wasn’t_ a child--she had the body and mind of a fully developed seventeen-year-old young woman.   _And I’m going to handle this on my own,_ she repeated her mission’s mantra to herself as she jammed the key determinedly into the lock and clicked it open.

High-pitched laughter greeted her ears as Frankie stepped into the front hall leading to the living area.  If she hadn’t known Mrs. J was over, this might have startled her to sparking level.  But at this point she knew what to expect when hers and Jackson’s mothers got together.  It was less like a friendly chat between two seemingly middle-aged women and more like two college roommates at a ten-year reunion.  

“Oh my lord, Viv--only _that_ could happen to _you!_ ”

“I know! I was mortified I had made such a big deal about it--and they just sat there and laughed at me!”

“Well, you know the _wonderful_ working relationship between college faculty and administration--”

“Frankie!” Mrs. Stein called cheerfully from the armchair she reclined in, holding a half-full glass of wine. “You’re home early! I wasn’t expecting you for a few more hours at least.”

“Not much to do at the Maul,” Frankie shrugged, thinking about the sale at Abercreepy and Witch she was missing. _See Clawdeen? I can lie to my mom all day if I want to._

“Come in and say hi to Mrs. J,” Mrs. Stein said, throwing aside a pillow on the sofa so Frankie could sit.  The woman holding a slightly less amount of wine looked over and waved at Frankie.  Like Jackson she wore glasses, with more stylish frames, had yellow highlights in her shoulder length dark hair, and like Frankie’s mother looked _far_ younger and more attractive than she should have at her age.  

“It’s been awhile, Frankie,” Mrs. J said, patting the seat next to her and Frankie sat down gingerly. “Come on, I don’t bite--hard,” she joked.

“Well, a few more glasses of wine and we’ll see what Sydney _Hyde_ has to say about that,” Mrs. Stein chortled, taking another sip.

“Viveka I told you, I haven’t transformed while inebriated in over a decade.” Mrs. J rolled her eyes, looking over at Frankie and cupping a hand around her mouth, “Don’t listen to your mother.”

“Don’t worry, I usually don’t,” Frankie joked back without missing a beat, and Mrs. J let out a hoot of laughter, raising her wine glass as if in a toast.

“Congratulations Viv, your husband has created a true teenage daughter!”

“Oh trust me, his credit card bill is fully aware,” Mrs. Stein replied, looking Frankie’s high-heeled platforms, fishnet tights, short magenta maxi dress and lightning bolt necklace up and down. “You are so lucky you have boys.”

“Boys come with their own set of problems,” Mrs. J sighed wisely, “Especially when they’re _so_ different from each other.”  As if right on cue, Mrs. Stein’s text tone--a lightning strike sound effect--went off and Frankie sat up straighter.   _Here we go..._

“I don’t believe this,” Mrs. Stein furrowed her brow, shaking her head at her phone screen. “Viktor caused a power outage at the community college during his class.” Frankie’s hopes sank--maybe she really _didn’t_ believe it.  But she relaxed as her mother got up from the chair to take her glass into the kitchen. “I’m going to have to go down there and make sure all my computer files are backed up.”

“Want me to come and help?” _No!_ Frankie almost shouted. If Mrs. J went too, it would ruin everything!

“No it’s fine, I should be back shortly,” Mrs. Stein called back from the front hall where she was searching for her purse. “We had _such_ a good track record going, too. He hadn’t blown a circuit out there since before Frankie was created--Oh Frankie!” Mrs. Stein rushed back into the room as if she had just remembered her daughter was there, “Would you mind keeping Mrs. J company while I’m gone?”

“No problem, Mom,” Frankie said with a wide toothy smile. _Perfect, absolutely perfect._

“I’ll be back soon!” Mrs. Stein called from the doorway, “And don’t let Sydney near the wine!”

“Viv!” Mrs. J called back in an annoyed tone, then just laughed as the front door shut. “Oh, your mom makes me feel young again--in monster years.”

Frankie giggled, “She really values your friendship you know.”

“And I value hers,” Mrs. J said in a touched voice, pressing her hand against her heart. “Both of your parents are wonderful monsters, Frankie. You’re lucky to have them.”

“I feel lucky every day,” Frankie said truthfully, moving a bit closer to her mother’s guest on the sofa. Time to get down to brass tacks: “I’m actually glad we’re alone. I really wanted to talk to you about--”

“Holt’s episode at the party,” Mrs. J finished for her, her smile slipping. “Mark my words, he really heard it from me when he got home that night.”

Frankie looked at her, alarmed. “Did he hear it from _you_...or from...?”

“Oh don’t worry sweetie, it was definitely me,” Mrs. J assured her grimly. “I’m so used to his temper getting him in trouble by now that it’s not even worth the effort to unleash ‘Big Bad Mommy’ on him anymore.” She chuckled, “That’s what I used to call it when he was young.”

“I feel awful about the whole thing,” Frankie sighed, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. “I don’t know, I just feel partially responsible for some reason...” She was still debating whether or not to bring up the series of nightmares.

“Frankie, I’m sure it wasn’t anything you said or did that night,” Mrs. J said, patting her folded hands soothingly. “Holt was defending you. _'_ _You should’ve heard the things he wanted to do to her, Ma!’_ he said to me. Still wasn’t any excuse for hospitalizing that gargoyle, but...he did it because he cares about you and doesn’t want to see you hurt.”  Frankie felt like a dozen butterflies suddenly took flight in her stomach, trying her hardest not to let it distract her.

“But still, has his temper gotten worse over the years?” she asked leaning forward curiously. “Is his condition getting more severe? Did this happen to you? How is his transformation different than yours was?”

Mrs. J was silent, studying Frankie’s face for a few moments. “There is no power outage at the college, is there?”

“What?!” Frankie sparked violently and Mrs. J sat back nodding satisfactorily, her question having just been answered.

“You got your mother out of the house so you could have this little chat with me,” she confirmed, a wry smile crossing her face.

“How did you _know?_ ” Frankie exhaled in defeat, burying her face in her hands.

“I grew up with an alter ego, Frankie,” Mrs. J said matter-of-factly. “I spent a lifetime lying to my parents about things she did and who was to blame. I know the signs of a ghoul hiding secrets.”

“Okay...” Now that she was caught, the chat seemed significantly less friendly than she expected it to be.  But with only forty-five minutes to go, Frankie couldn’t stall any longer. “I...I want to know more about Jackson and Holt’s condition specifically. I mean, was he always like this? Since he was born?”

“Oh no,” Mrs. J’s smile was completely gone now, a sadness replacing the sparkle in her eyes. “He wasn’t. Jackson...he was such a beautiful baby. So healthy, so happy...it never even occurred to me back then.” She pensively fixed her gaze on the adjacent window overlooking the front yard. “He was two and a half when I found out. The sun had just set and all of a sudden, my shy quiet little boy was blue with flaming orange hair, babbling and jumping up and down on his bed. That was the trigger throughout his childhood--time of day. Every night, he was Holt Hyde. Jackson never even saw the moon before until he was fourteen.” Mrs. J swallowed hard, “When I saw what had happened, I panicked. I absolutely lost my cool. I sent him to bed even though it was only six o'clock--he started crying because he thought I was angry at him. Then I locked myself in the bathroom and just cried and _cried_. I was so sure the gene would skip a generation, as it had with my parents. And for the longest time I just hated myself, and my grandfather and this _experiment_ of his that had now been inflicted upon my son.” She laughed bitterly, wiping the corners of her eyes. “Jackson’s father though--I could tell he was thrilled. He had a monster for a son after all. Meanwhile my heart was breaking, as any mother’s would.”

“And Jackson never had any idea?” Frankie asked more gently, and Mrs. J shook her head.

“‘Blackouts’ we would call them,” she went on, and Frankie cringed inwardly seeing her use air quotes. “It wasn’t until you came along that he knew the truth.” She looked up quickly and caught Frankie’s apprehensive gaze. “Oh honey, I’m not blaming you! I knew as soon as we enrolled him at Monster High that he was going to find out. Headmistress Bloodgood was the only one who knew beforehand and I implored her to keep it secret. She very reluctantly agreed--she’s always been one for exposing and embracing monster heritage as opposed to hiding it. But...I was just so protective of my boy. _Both_ of my boys. I didn’t want Jackson to endure any of the same pain I had.” She looked Frankie straight in the eye now, reaching out for her hand, and Frankie took it and held it firmly.

“I have always had a very difficult time finding someone who would accept both sides of me for who we are,” Mrs. J said, rubbing her thumb over Frankie’s hand affectionately. “I still resent her--Hyde--for ruining so many special moments and chasing away people I could have had in my life.” She was smiling genuinely at Frankie now, “But I was so _happy_ when Jackson and Holt met you. Not just because you were my best friend’s daughter, but because you were such a sweet ghoul. You’re so kind and friendly and accepting of everyone, and you don’t know how much my boys needed that in their lives.”

“I like them just for being true to who they are,” Frankie responded, covering Mrs. J’s hand with her other hand. “Jackson is the sweetest guy I have ever met, and Holt is so fun and electrifying. But together...they both make me feel special, they both make me light up inside, they both have my back and they’re both _so_ important to me. I care about them...”

 _...Just as much as they care about me._  And for the first time, Frankie was having second thoughts. Not about this conversation with Mrs. J, but about another conversation she’d had several months ago--when she told Jackson and Holt separately that she needed to give them space. Now voicing her feelings, her _true_ feelings aloud, all barriers down, Frankie was wondering if this difficult decision she had made was actually the right one.

Mrs. J squeezed both of her hands, “Then you understand that it won’t always be like this.”

“What won’t?” Frankie asked, fearing the answer.

“Jackson’s trigger has changed since he was young--obviously you know now it’s music,” Mrs. J explained. “He’s eighteen now, and it’s a certainty that his trigger will change at least once more before he reaches adulthood.”

“And what will that mean?” Frankie asked, a note of desperation in her voice.

“I don’t know,” Mrs. J said slowly, shaking her head hopelessly. “The gene varies from generation to generation, person to person.” She paused for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. “Edward Hyde was a full grown man, nearly fifty. Normie accounts depict him as a murderer. And while that information is technically untrue, it’s merit is not unfounded. Edward _did_ kill people, but it was never in cold blood and almost always accidental--a consequence of his rage. Could you imagine applying these same implications to a teenage boy, already so confused about the world, himself and his future?”

She pressed a hand to her mouth and Frankie handed her the tissue box from the coffee table with shaking hands. “I was lucky-- _so_ lucky,” Mrs. J choked out, taking off her glasses to dab at her eyes. “In college I managed to gain more control over my transformation than anyone ever anticipated I would. My Hyde hasn’t caused any real harm or destruction for years, and we’ve reached a compromise. But Holt...his temper only appears to be getting worse the older he gets. He flies into these rages and there’s just no reaching him.” She looked back up, “Frankie, thank goodness you didn’t try to break up that fight at the bonfire. I’m almost positive he would have hurt you as well.” Frankie nodded, her hands still shaking in her lap. She didn’t need to imagine what could have happened--she had already dreamt it.

“And...it’s only going to get worse...” Frankie trailed off, completely at a loss for what to say. Her overwrought mind could barely formulate words and instead gave way to uneven breathing.

“It’s a definite possibility,” Mrs. J answered. “And unless it gets better, it will eventually affect Jackson as well.” Her voice quivered on the brink of tears, “If it takes him and Holt too long to compromise, the animosity between them will cause their personalities to bleed into each other. And once it reaches that point...the transformation, and their behavior, will be beyond _anyone’s_ control.”

Frankie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my ghoul...”

Mrs. J took her by the shoulders and held on firmly. “Frankie, I wouldn’t tell just anyone everything I’ve told you today. But you’re an important part of their lives and you have a right to know. You were the first monster to accept them both as they are, and I need you to continue to be that support. Because as things stand now, they are _not_ alright.”

Frankie drew in a shaking breath, “I understand...” The corners of her mouth managed to turn upward slightly. “Thank you for trusting me.”

For several moments, they sat in silence until the front door creaked open. “Ugh, all the way out there for nothing--and at _these_ gas prices!” came Mrs. Stein’s irritated tone.

“I won’t tell her you lied,” Mrs. J whispered, “if you keep your promise to me.”

“Done,” Frankie said without hesitation. But inside, a struggle was taking place that felt like it was tearing all of her artificial tissue apart.  And every possible solution seemed to point to a dead end.  Jackson and Holt were doomed to merge and become a true monster, one that could rival any false interpretation a normie Hollywood producer could cook up.   _Unless..._ there was one tiny sliver of hope, one possibility that could help.  But it would mean throwing all caution to the winds, and taking a plunge that Frankie wasn’t confident she was able to take.

~

_“Frankie!”_

_“Jackson?!” she shouted.  The fog was so thick she could barely see her hand in front of her face, let alone locate the source of the call. “Jackson, is that you?!”_

_“No way, Fine Stein--it’s me!”_

_“Holt?!” Frankie called back, trying to swat the mist away like cobwebs. “What’s going on?”_

_“Tryin' to take over normie boy’s body!” Holt shouted triumphantly. “I’ll win control, and best of all I’ll win you back!”_

_“Holt, that’s not funny!” she cried out, looking every which way for where their voices were coming from. Why couldn’t she find them?_

_“Who said I was jokin’?”_

_“Taking over Jackson’s body wasn’t part of our agreement!” Frankie said angrily, beginning to run in the direction of Holt’s reply. “You and Jackson need to communicate with each other!”_

_“We have, but we can’t agree on anything.” It was Jackson again coming from Frankie’s left, and she turned on her heel to change directions. He grunted painfully, and she picked up speed._

_“Not on anything except you, that is.” Holt again, on her right. She flung herself back the other way. She needed to find them fast._

_“Holt, you can’t do this,” Frankie said to the thick air, panting as she ran. “What will happen to Jackson if you do?”_

_“You’re as smart as you are fine, Frankie,” Holt chortled. “It doesn’t take a mad scientist to figure it out...”_

_Eyes widening, Frankie made her decision and charged left. “Jackson?! Jackson, can you still hear me?!”_

_“Probably not.”_

_“You won’t gain anything if you do this, Holt--including me!” Frankie screamed, stopping dead in her tracks as her whole body shook with fear and anger. “I swear, I’ll never forgive you!”_

_“Frankie don’t!” Jackson coughed violently, “You’ll get hurt if you stay here! Get out of here!”_

_“No! I’m not! I’m not leaving either of you!” Frankie collapsed to her knees, feeling her battery draining charge. “Holt, this isn’t you. You may be hot-headed and you may lose your temper and you may do things before you think them through, but you are not the monster they make you out to be.”_

_Silence. “Holt?!”_

_“What do ya think you’re doin’?!” Holt roared, grunting as his voice bled into Jackson’s--back and forth to the point where Frankie could barely discern one from the other._

_“I’m protecting her,” Jackson breathed heavily, sounding angrier than Frankie had ever heard him. “Do whatever you want to me, but leave Frankie out of this!”_

_“Protecting her from what?! I care more about her than you do!”_

_“No you don’t!”_

_“And I have more to offer!”_

_“She left me because of you!” Frankie gasped as both voices chorused the last phrase at once, clenching her hands as she found the strength to stand again.  As if the power of Jackson and Holt’s confrontation had cleared the fog, she found herself staring at the freakiest sight she had ever seen.  A body--a strange mixed hybrid of Jackson’s hair and glasses with Holt’s skin and tattoo--lay on the ground, nearly still._

_“Jackson! Holt!” Frankie rushed up and knelt beside them, holding the hybrid face in her hands. She knew what happened by these repercussions--they had both tried to repress the transformation at the same moment.  Now they couldn’t speak or move, and they couldn’t survive like this.  All they could do was stare up at her as their final moments ticked away._

_“No! It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!” Frankie cried out, hugging them to her chest. “You were supposed to work things out! You promised me!” Her voice broke into hysterics as she gasped to form words. “Jackson!...Holt!...”_

Frankie let out a scream as the ceiling of her bedroom came into view.  Panting, whimpering, her pajamas drenched in sweat, she had managed to kick the covers completely off her bed.  That was...no...it felt way too real to be a...

“Frankie! _Frankie!_ ”

 _Oh no._  How loud had she screamed?  She grabbed the blankets up from the floor and managed to wipe the sweat and tears from her face just before both of her parents burst into the room.  Sitting up and arranging the covers back over her from the waist down, she tried to appear as natural as possible.

“Frankie, what is it?” Mr. Stein asked, reaching the bed first and sitting down beside her. “A nightmare?”

“What happened?” her mother asked hushedly, following suit with her eyes wide in panic.

“It’s--”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing!” Mrs. Stein pointed at her before she could speak. “I’ve never heard you scream like that before.”

“You were calling for Jackson, then Holt,” her father said, unhooking her sparking neck bolts from the generator and trying to study her face. But she kept looking away and shaking her head, so he cupped her chin and physically turned her face to his. "Frankie, _tell us._ ”

 _It’s okay, go back to sleep._ Her head told her to just repeat that, as she had to Draculaura and the Glitterati.  

“It’s--it’s--” But it wasn’t okay.  No, everything couldn’t have been further from okay.  She looked into her parents faces, worried for her, wanting to understand what made her so afraid, and she didn’t want them to go back to sleep.  She wanted them right here with her, more than ever before.

And suddenly, as if a barrier had been broken down in her heart, Frankie’s face crumpled and she started to sob.  Her father whispered her name soothingly as he pulled her into his lap, holding her close.  She felt her mother on her other side stroking her hair and kissing her forehead, feeling safe and secure if only while in her parents’ embrace.  And at long last, Frankie launched into the entire story between gulps of air.  With every sentence, it felt like she was becoming lighter and lighter as each weight on her shoulders came off one by one, the words coming easier and faster--to the point where she forgot to skip over mentioning the novella.  Only then did her father pull away sharply.

“You read _what?_ ”

“I--I just skimmed it,” Frankie lied, but after several long minutes of telling the truth it was far from convincing--and her father didn’t buy it for one second.

“What have I told you about all of that normie _fiction?_ ” Mr. Stein growled, the last word dripping with venom. “Where did you even get this book?!”

“Cleo f-found it in her dad’s study,” Frankie stammered, jumping as her father stood suddenly and began pacing the floor. “Dad, just listen--!”

“Viktor,” Mrs. Stein said evenly as her husband muttered under his breath in their native German. “Viktor, stop. She no longer has the book, does she?” She looked at Frankie for confirmation, who shook her head.

“I’m calling Ram de Nile this instant,” he grumbled angrily, “and letting him know what his ‘little princess’ did.”

“No, Dad!” Now her slip up was going to get _Cleo_ in trouble!

“Frances Stein, _hold your tongue,_ ” Mr. Stein shot at his daughter, who fell silent--as silent as she could while crying softly.

“ _Viktor!_ ” Mrs. Stein shouted, pulling Frankie into her arms. “ _Es gibt eine zeit und einen ort. Und das ist es nicht (There’s a time and place. And this isn’t it)._ ”  Mr. Stein looked from his wife to his daughter, then unclenched his fists and sat back down next to them stiffly.  Frankie could only grasp a handful of the German language, but whatever her mother had said must have calmed him.

“We’ll discuss this at a later date,” he said firmly. “But I _never_ want you doing that again, Frankie. If you wanted information, you should have asked Sydney Jekyll--”

“I did,” Frankie said quietly. She went on to explain the conversation she’d had with Mrs. J in great detail, watching her father’s expression grow softer and sympathetic the more she revealed.  By the time she had choked her way through her latest dream, he pulled her into a hug once more.

“I wish I could tell you everything will be alright,” Mr. Stein sighed, rocking his daughter gently. “But...”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Frankie sniffled, wiping her eyes on her dad’s shirt.

“You shouldn’t have kept this from us,” Mrs. Stein shook her head, running her fingers through Frankie’s hair again. “I know there’s not much we can do to help the situation, but Frankie--you can’t keep something like this bottled up. As long as we’re here, you don’t have to bear any burden alone.”

At that, something clicked in Frankie’s mind.  She was right, she didn’t have to bear this alone.   _No one_ should have to bear _any_ sort of burden alone.  “I need to call Jackson,” she said aloud without thinking.

“Not now, it’s 3:30,” her father said as she pulled away from him, grabbing at her phone charging on top of the generator. “You can call him in the morning.”

“No, it has to be n--!”

“ _In the morning,_ ” Mrs. Stein whispered, shushing her as she lay her back down on the table bed, pulling the covers up around her.  Frankie sent a quick text to Jackson anyway (NEED TO TALK TO YOU ASAP THIS MORNING) before snuggling down under the covers.

“Sleep well, my sweet girl.” Mr. Stein kissed her forehead before yawning and heading back to his charging station.

“Could you stay here?” Frankie asked her mom timidly, who had gotten up to follow her husband. “In case the nightmares come back.”  Mrs. Stein looked at her for a moment, then nodded.

“Of course, sweetheart,” she said. She pulled Frankie’s desk chair up next to the bed, chuckling lightly, “I’ll use all of my mom powers to make sure there are no more bad dreams and no more tears tonight.”

Frankie smiled genuinely and closed her eyes as her mother began to sing a soft German lullaby, comforted greatly by her voice.  With the promise of tomorrow still up in the air, for now she was just grateful to finally drift into the refuge of a dreamless sleep.

~

The park bench was wet from the summer shower earlier that morning, causing Frankie to have to sit on a towel so she wouldn’t spark out of control. But this was where Jackson had told her to meet him when he got back to her around 7:30 that morning--once Frankie had insisted this conversation needed to be private.  And that was where they left it off.  She had no idea what was going to come of this meeting, and she only had a vague idea of what she was going to say. The rest would depend on Jackson’s reaction when she told him she knew everything.  

Pulling out her compact, Frankie checked her reflection one last time.  She’d taken great care in her appearance this morning, choosing a sweetly modest navy blue sundress, silver heeled sandals, minimal makeup and had pulled the sides of her hair back with a butterfly clip.  If she ended up taking the plunge, she wanted to be prepared.

She snapped her mirror shut when her phone buzzed--Jackson, telling her he had just pulled up.  Leaning back on the bench, she stared up at the early morning grey sky threatening to downpour yet again as she breathed deeply.  She really hoped that whatever happened this morning, it wouldn’t completely destroy whatever relationship they had left.

BEHIND YOU, the next text read. Frankie sparked and whirled around, seeing Jackson approaching her from the parking lot across the street.  She waved him over, plastering a large smile on her face as he drew nearer to her. “Thanks for meeting me so early.”

“No problem,” Jackson gave her a half-smile. “Holt hasn’t had many gigs lately, so I’ve been able to catch up on sleep.” He came around the back of the bench and sat down beside her.  Was it just her, or had Jackson combed his hair? Something told her he might be having some of the same thoughts about this private meeting as she was. “You look...really nice.”

“Thanks,” Frankie said, smoothing out the wrinkles in her knee-length skirt.  She looked up to meet his gaze, expectantly waiting for her to break the ice.  Her mouth went dry and her mind went blank--how could she do this to him? He looked so sweet and innocent staring at her like that...

“You wanted to talk to me...privately?” Jackson finally said, scratching his neck nervously with his still bandaged hand.

“Yeah--yeah I did,” Frankie snapped back to earth, blinking a few times. “I...um...I need to tell you about some things. Some things that have happened--some things that have _been_ happening to me. And...you.” He stared at her blankly and she cursed herself for getting off to such a terrible start. “I’ve been having these dreams,” she blurted out at last.

“Dreams?”

“Well not exactly dreams, more like...nightmares.” She swallowed hard, “And you and Holt have been...in them. They started out really vague, then started to get clearer and clearer--but also got worse and worse.” She stumbled through as detailed of an account as she could of these past several evenings, Jackson’s expression growing more concerned the longer she spoke.

“So...you’ve dreamt about our condition becoming similar...to my great-grandfather’s?” Jackson gathered, and Frankie sighed in relief that he had understood.

“I talked to your mom the other day,” she said softly, fiddling nervously with the hem of her skirt. “And she told me...she told me all about your transformation specifically. And Holt’s behavior getting worse, and...the consequences that may come from that.”  Jackson remained silent, but his eyes flashed suddenly--as if his mom had told her something he didn’t want spread around.

“She _did?_ ”

“Jackson, she _chose_ to confide in me--I didn’t force her,” Frankie leaned forward, laying a hand on his arm. “But I’m glad she did, even though it...it _terrifies_ me.”

Jackson looked away from her and stared at the ground, his hands gripping the seat of the bench. “I didn’t ask for this,” he said so softly that Frankie almost missed it. “I mean, growing up in a monster neighborhood, I wished I could be a werewolf or a vampire or something that wouldn’t make me feel like an outcast normie. Then it actually happened and...I wanted to take back every wish I ever had back then. Holt’s always been a thorn in my side, but in the grand scheme of things he was generally harmless. Unless...his temper flared up.” He looked back over at Frankie, “It’s been happening more often, hasn’t it?”

“According to your mom, yes,” Frankie nodded, trying to keep her voice even. “She was pretty sure that Holt would have attacked anyone who got in his way that night at the party. Including me.”

Jackson’s eyes widened. “Frankie, we wouldn’t--we _couldn’t_ hurt you.”

“He’s completely blinded to reason when his temper reaches the boiling point,” Frankie cut in, his stunned expression breaking her heart. “And she--your mom--said that if your condition doesn’t make some sort of turnaround, you’ll begin to merge to the point where your transformation and behavior will be completely unpredictable. And if this happens with Holt’s temper being so violent--Jackson, you _will_ become a true monster! A danger to everyone, even those you care about most!”

“But there’s nothing anyone can _do,_ Frankie!” Jackson finally cried out, slamming his hands on the bench as he stood suddenly, wincing at his broken hand. “I’ve been dragged to who knows how many doctors throughout my entire life. I’ve been on medication. I’ve kept my mom up all night crying over what my future holds. You have no idea how hard it’s been, and lately it’s only gotten harder! I feel like I have no control over anything, not Holt’s life _or_ my own!” He stared out across the street, breathingly heavily. Looking down at his clenched fists, he gazed slowly back up at Frankie and unfolded his fingers. “See? It’s starting already...and nothing can help it.”

“I can,” Frankie stood to meet his gaze at eye level. “I can help, Jackson.”

“How?” he let out a grim laugh. “No offense Frankie, but you have a tendency to be overly optimistic. This isn’t one of those quick-fix problems that’ll all work out fine in the end. This is something I’ve been living with for eighteen years and will keep living with until the day I die."

“I know that,” Frankie said, getting sick of everyone treating her like she was so naive. “I know that this can’t be fixed overnight, but it _can_ be fixed. All it involves is a commitment.”

Jackson furrowed his brow, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the solution to this problem lies with someone...just one person pledging to stay by your side. No matter what happens, no matter how out of control you both get, even if there _isn’t_ a solution to this at all! Just one person...who sees you both for what you really are...two sides of one _voltageous_ person.”

“...You?” Jackson breathed as she stepped closer.

“Why else would I be the one having these dreams?” Frankie concluded, practically feeling the final puzzle pieces fall into place. It was such a relief.

“No,” Jackson said without even bothering to think it over. “I can’t do that to you. I can’t have you throw your life away on me.”

“I’ve already made up my mind,” Frankie said firmly, keeping her feet planted as she stared Jackson down. “All you have to do is let me.”

“No!” Jackson repeated even louder, “You don’t deserve this!”

“Neither do you!” Frankie matched the volume of his voice--why was he being like this?

“How can that possibly help my transformation?!”

“I don’t know, but I can find a way!” Frankie shouted stubbornly, stomping her heel into the grass exactly as she had when arguing with Holt at the party. “My dad’s a mad scientist--I can find a million ways!”

“I’ve been to scientists, I’ve been to doctors--name any kind of specialist and I’ve tried it! I’ve tried everything and nothing has been able to stop it!”

“Then I can--I--well--I can’t just stand by and do _nothing,_ Jackson!”

“There’s nothing else you _can_ do, don’t you get it?! Do you realize the enormous risk you’d be taking if you did this to yourself?! It’s way too dangerous--to your health, your safety _and_ your life! I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy let alone _you,_ Frankie!”

“ _I don’t care!_ ” Frankie finally screamed, as close to his face as she dared allow herself to be. “I don’t care what kind of risk there is to me because it’s _nothing_ compared to the risk to both of you if I just watch helplessly from the sidelines!” Tears began sliding down her cheeks and off her chin, and Jackson’s anger at her persistence ebbed away. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew this _horrible_ change was evolving and I did nothing to try and keep it from overtaking you! That’s--that’s just the kind of ghoul I am, and I can’t change that! Please, Jackson-- _please_ just--let me do _something!_ ”

She launched herself forward, digging her nails into his sweater vest as she began to cry weakly into his chest. Jackson immediately wrapped his arms around her tightly, resting the side of his head against her temple as he felt guilt, sadness and compassion for the ghoul he cared about so much wash over him.

“I’m sorry,” he said after several long minutes of just holding her, tears having welled up in his own eyes. “I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in this, Frankie...” He doubted she heard him while crying so hard so he went back to shushing her gently in her ear, wishing he could say it was okay--but he wasn’t going to lie to her after she’d been nothing but honest with him. They stayed that way for what felt like ages until Frankie regained her composure, then Jackson broke away slightly so he could look her straight in the eyes.

“Are you sure...this is what you want?”

Frankie looked back at him with wet puffy eyes and nodded. “ _Yes_ \--you can’t be alone during this, Jackson,” she whimpered, noticing the tears glistening behind his glasses. “As long as I’m here...you don’t have to bear any burden alone.” She managed a small smile as she repeated her mother’s words, bringing a hand up to stroke his cheek comfortingly as Jackson hung his head.

“Thank you,” he said thickly as Frankie reached up to embrace him again, allowing him to unleash the pain of his burden on her shoulder as well.  In that moment, in the stillness of the morning, Frankie felt complete--at ease and happy for the first time in days.  So when she turned and kissed Jackson on the cheek as he raised his head from her shoulder, she was just as shocked as he was.

“Oh my ghoul!” she jumped back, sparking brightly in the dim grey light of the morning. “I can’t believe I just did that! I don’t know what I was--!”

“I’m not complaining,” Jackson shrugged, a rather goofy smile spread across his face--but Frankie was positively mortified.  Rushing back to the park bench, she began digging through her purse. “Hey, what’re you doing?”

“I need to talk to Holt.” Frankie pulled out a set of headphones, walking quickly back over to him.

“Aw, c’mon!” Jackson whined, clearly happier about what had just occurred than Frankie was.

“Just for a few minutes,” she assured him, slapping the headphones over his ears and stepping back as a bright flash of green light morphed him into the fiery DJ.

“Huh?! What’s goin--?!” He reached up and wiped his still damp eyes, “Aw man, have I been _cryin’?_ Holt Hyde does not cry!” He noticed Frankie standing there and broke into a grin, “Well okay, maybe in front of _you_ I would, Frankie Fine.”

“Hi, Holt,” Frankie smiled knowingly. “How much did you hear?”

“A lot, actually,” Holt replied, bringing his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “I dunno what it is Frankie, but it seems like you can reach us both, even when one of us is on the down-low.” His face softened into concern as he studied her worn features, “You okay, hon?”

“I am now,” she nodded, looking up into his sunset-colored eyes.  It was hard to believe that this same guy who had pulverized a gargoyle in a flying rage the last time she saw him was gazing at her so affectionately now.  That those same arms that had thrown punch after punch were wrapped so gently around her waist.  

“I’m...I’m not the bad guy, Frankie,” Holt said, lowering his eyes in what Frankie thought was shame. “I mean--maybe I am, but...I don’t wanna be. You feelin’ me?”

“Yeah,” Frankie said, absentmindedly reaching up to trace the tattoo around his left eye. “You’re not a bad guy, Holt...” He in turn cupped her face in his hand, running his thumb softly along the scar on her right cheek.

“I’m feelin’ _that..._ ” It was the last thing Frankie heard Holt say before he brought his lips to hers.  Something screamed inside of Frankie to push him away, to say she wasn’t ready for this, to shock him with a bolt of electricity--but another quieter part of her prodded lightly, _Just let him have this._  So she did.  It was short, it was tender, it was sweet, and to say she hadn’t enjoyed it would have been an outright lie.

“What’re ya thinkin’, Fine Stein?” he said as they broke apart, obviously having enjoyed himself as well.

“I’m thinking you’re moving a little fast, Holt,” Frankie poked his chest in mock scolding, yet somewhere in the back of her mind she was just grateful that she was apparently a good kisser.

“The Holtster’s not one for takin’ it slow, baby!” his voice rocketed back up to shout level. “But...I think I can make an exception for my number one ghoul.”

“Just promise me you’ll keep talking things over with Jackson,” Frankie said, placing her hands on the headphones. “And if you need any help, or you get angry and need to cool off, I’m right here...I’m not going anywhere, Holt.”

“Now _that_ is what I like to hear!” He tried to punch the air in triumph just as Frankie pulled the headphones from his ears.

“Talk to you later,” she said as his face dissolved back into Jackson’s, clutching his head at his abrupt return.

“Whoa, why do I feel so light-headed? The only time Holt gets this way is when he--” Jackson stopped and looked down at Frankie’s glowing face. “You gotta be _kidding_ me!” he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. “You kissed _him_ first?!”

“Actually, he kissed me,” Frankie said shyly, wringing her hands in front of her.

“This is what I get for being the nice guy, the respectful guy,” Jackson ranted mostly to himself as Frankie inched closer to him. “We could’ve talked this over, but nope, he’s gotta ruin everything like he always does. He just moves in for the kill like a rude delinquent when _I_ would’ve asked ‘Frankie would it be alright if I ki--’” He was cut off as a pair of lips briefly met his, Frankie’s slight arms wrapping around his neck and remaining comfortably on his shoulders as she pulled back.

“What was that for?” Jackson asked breathlessly--the goofy smile was back.

“I just needed to check something,” Frankie said, the glow more prominent in her face. “To test a hypothesis, sort of. And I was right.”

“Right about what?”

“Your lips are the same as Holt’s,” she said softly, “You both kiss exactly the same.” Frankie took Jackson’s broken hand in hers, lacing her fingers carefully through his. “It’s like I’ve always known: You’re both so different, but you’re _still_ the same guy. That’s how I know there’s hope.”

“So--you don’t want to--you know--we’re not getting back together then?” Jackson’s face fell.

“I’m not ready for a romantic relationship, Jackson," Frankie said truthfully, "And until you two work things out, I don't think you are either. But what we have, what all _three_ of us have...I think it’s even better than that. It means a lot more, and it's really special."

“Yeah, you're right...maybe it is,” Jackson smiled, squeezing her hand lightly as he walked her back to his car.  

The future was uncertain for all of them.  For Frankie Stein it excited, terrified, made her sorrowful and gave her hope all at once.  But in the end, if she was able to make a difference for just one person--or even two--then she really couldn’t ask for anything more.  

 


End file.
